221 Johnlock
by poetanddidntknowit34
Summary: A collection of 221 Johnlock drabbles in the 221B format (221 words, last word beginning with 'B').
1. Chapter 1- Back

John's sleep was interrupted by the sound of a bullet in the walls. Without hesitation, he swung himself out of bed and down the stairs, and found himself glaring at the consulting detective on the couch. "It's four in the morning. You've only been alive two days and you're already driving me insane." John was still upset about the faked suicide, and though Sherlock was trying his hardest to gain John's forgiveness, old habits do die hard.

Sherlock stumbled on his words. This was the first time John had directly spoken to him since he rose from the dead. "I was just-"

John held up a silencing hand. Somewhere between being ripped from sleep and interrupting his flatmate, he realized just how much he needed this. The shots rang as a clear reminder of times past, and suddenly, the memories flooded John's mind once more. The cases, the laughter, pale fingers wound into his, the unconditional trust between them, the heartbreak, and the silence of the last two years. It was enough to overwhelm him and tears fell freely for the first time since his boyfriend pitched himself from a rooftop all those years ago. Sherlock stood helpless, afraid of harsh rejection.

The soldier strode forward and pulled his genius into a forgiving kiss. "It's so good to have you back."


	2. Chapter 2- Beat

Sherlock awoke suddenly with a jarring gasp, clutching the sheets around him in desperation. John was pulled quickly from his sleep and, reaching for the panicking detective, tried to calm him down. "Sherlock, what's wrong?" John managed to pin the pale arms to his sides and refused to let go until Sherlock took several deep breaths.

"I know dreams aren't real and are only a construct of the unconscious mind," Sherlock began with shaky breath, "But it was so REAL, John."

"What was your dream about?" John let go of Sherlock's arms and brushed a lock of curls from his face.

"I- I didn't jump all those years ago. On the rooftop. I didn't finish Moriarty's story and they-" He shuddered out a breath and took another moment to collect himself. "They killed you, John. Right in front of me and I heard it all over the phone and..." He started crying as he looked at John. "And I'm so sorry because that's what I did to you, only I never got you back!"

John wiped the tears from Sherlock's cheeks, "Sherlock, please calm down, love. It was a dream. I'm alive, Sherlock. I promise." The good doctor pulled Sherlock down and placed his boyfriend's head over his heart. Sherlock breathed deeply and closed his eyes, listening and cataloguing every beat.


	3. Chapter 3- Books

"No, no, no!" Sherlock cried, throwing papers and other objects around the living room.

"What are you doing?" John asked without looking up at the genius.

"Looking for something. I'm not entirely sure about a date and I need to know." He threw a whole stack of papers and they danced around John in a snowstorm of black and white. "Where did I put it?!" He roared in frustration.

"Sherlock, you have three bookshelves of reference textbooks." John pointed to the wall on the other side of the room. "You haven't even looked there!"

"It won't be in those. It's too important of a date." Sherlock was now taking apart the bottom of the coffee table.

"If it's an important date, it'll be in a reference textbook. What date are you even looking-"

"Found it!" Sherlock cried, putting the coffee table back together and crawling out with a little black book.

But before he could open it, John snatched it from his hands. Inside was a list of several dates and facts. 'John's birthday', 'Our anniversary', 'John's favorite tea', etc. "Sherlock, why do you have all these written down? And what were you looking for?"

"I want to take you somewhere for your birthday." He blushed. "That's why it wasn't in the reference section. Somethings are too important for ordinary books."


	4. Chapter 4- Bed

Sherlock groaned miserably and buried his face in John's bare ribs. "Johhhnnnnnnn." He complained loudly.

John rolled over sleepily, mumbling something about '5 more minutes'. It was Sunday, and he had looked forward to sleeping in; Sherlock had even promised him a lazy day in bed. But now, the genius was interrupting his sleep and breaking his promise. John buried his face in the pillow, willing himself not to wake up completely and to fall back into his dream.

Sherlock suddenly shot out of bed, practically taking John with him as he scrambled over, and caused John to cry out when a foot accidentally connected with his chest. "Sherlock what are you-?" John began angrily, but stopped when he heard Sherlock begin to vomit violently in the bathroom.

John went in after him and his anger melted to loving concern when he saw his boyfriend clinging to the toilet for dear life. "I think I'm dying." Sherlock managed, before getting sick again. There were tears streaming down his cheeks and John wished he could take the pain away.

The doctor wet a flannel down and pressed the cool cloth against Sherlock's forehead. "I'm sorry I ruined your sleeping in." Sherlock managed to murmur, trying to catch his breath.

"Don't worry about that right now, love. Let's get you back to bed."


End file.
